


Viatorem

by Vexed_Chaos



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dream Pack (Raven Cycle), Joseph Kavinsky is His Own Warning, M/M, Possessive Joseph Kavinsky, References to Drugs, Though future Kavinsky is more stable, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25078045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexed_Chaos/pseuds/Vexed_Chaos
Summary: Losing Kavinsky and Proko had been like losing a part of his soul and Skov doesn’t think he’ll ever recover from it.  He feels lost, like he’s been thrown out to sea and has no idea how to get back again.  He’s supposed to be moving on with his future, but he can’t imagine how.  He can’t imagine feeling anything but numb.Until one day he wakes up three months in the future on the floor of a dorm bathroom with Kavinsky standing over him.  Things after that get infinitely more complicated.
Relationships: Jiang/Joseph Kavinsky/Prokopenko/Skov/Swan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m super excited to finally get this posted, especially on the 4th of July! I have too many thoughts in my head about the Dream Pack

They all get better at pretending to be okay. 

Jiang is the worst. They all loved each other, but Jiang had loved K deeply, in a way that Skov still doesn’t quite understand. It was a love that kept calm, sensible Jiang around the chaos that was Kavinsky. K’s death broke him in a way Skov isn’t sure time can repair. Some days he seems like he’s doing okay, most days he obviously isn’t. It was only through both his and Swan’s combined cheating efforts that they managed to keep Jiang’s GPA high enough to get him into college along with them. He still visits Proko in the hospital once a week. Swan goes with him sometimes, but even he finds it hard. Jiang talks to Proko as if nothing is wrong, ignoring his lack of response. According to Swan, it’s usually the happiest he sees Jiang all week. 

Swan, of course, is handling it the best. He had always been the strongest out of all of them and the only one who bothered to truly stand up to K. He had followed Kavinsky, but he had been perfectly capable of being a leader on his own. Still though, Swan isn’t the same person he used to be. He can’t stand to talk about either Kavinsky or Proko and instead throws himself into school, work, and taking care of him and Jiang. He hardly sleeps. Skov knows that he has nightmares of K dying, of Proko’s car crashing into a tree. Skov knows he blames himself. He wishes he wouldn’t. None of them had suspected what that night would bring. Some days, the guilt almost crushes Swan. Still, he’s the one who forces him and Jiang to get out of bed every morning, to think about futures, goals, and ambitions. He’s not whole, but he is healing. 

Skov has no idea where he lands. He had barely had any plans for his life before Kavinsky and now that it’s just after, there’s nothing. He divides his life into two distinct phases. There is Before Kavinsky and After Kavinsky. Some days, Skov is fine. He feels almost normal, but then he’ll turn to tell Proko a joke or to crawl onto K’s lap and they won’t be there. Then ice freezes through his veins so fast that he can hardly breathe. In the weeks after it happened, all he had been able to do was cry. He can’t cry anymore. All he can do is feel numb. All he can do is pretend like he cares when Swan is going over another potential internship opportunity for him or forcing him to attend another soccer game so he can keep his college scholarship. Sometimes he even manages to care. Just for a minute. 

Skov hates Ronan Lynch. He hates him more than he’s ever hated another human being, more than he ever thought he was capable of. It’s irrational. Kavinsky had been mentally ill and while Lynch may have been the catalyst, K had still chosen to jump over the ledge himself. Knowing this doesn’t make the hate go away. 

Still, the hate isn’t enough to keep him from cornering Lynch in the parking lot of the factory he lives in with Dick. It isn’t enough to stop him from begging. 

“You’re like him, aren’t you?” 

His question gets him no response. Lynch stares at him silently, his eyes guarded.  
“After Proko died, K dreamed him back. Can you do that?” 

Still no response, but Skov swears he can almost detect pity in Lynch’s eyes, which only infuriates him. 

“Can you or can’t you?” he snaps, hands curling into fists. 

“I’m not dreaming him back.” Lynch says, bluntly. Firmly. Skov knows he won’t be able to change his mind; he’s not sure if he even wants to try. He loves Proko with every bit of his entire being, he does, but that doesn’t mean there haven’t been times when he wished that K had never taken it into his hands to play god and bring Proko back. He loves Proko however he is, but the Proko K brought back is not the Proko that died. Any Kavinsky that Ronan was able to dream up would not be the Kavinsky that Skov knew and had loved. 

“Fuck you!” he says angrily. He’s so angry. He thinks sometimes his anger might consume him. Sometimes he wants to let it. Let the anger curl through his veins, white-hot and searing, burning away every last bit of the grief that he feels. 

“He’s gone, Skov. He’s never coming back.” Almost as an afterthought he adds, “I’m sorry.” 

Lynch is not sorry. He’s relieved Kavinsky is gone. No longer will Kavinsky be there to leer at him from the shadows, to pull him down into the dark depths of a hell Ronan can’t claw his way out of. He managed to escape Kavinsky’s shadow before he became too tarnished for Gansey. 

What Skov wants to tell him is that Kavinsky was a man. He may have pretended to be a god, may have even had the powers of one, but he was never anything more than a man, a boy really. Only seventeen when he died. It was that boy Skov loved, that boy he will never see again. 

He shoves Lynch as hard as he can, but Lynch hardly moves. Lynch is not broad, but he is strong. Skov is small, he’s fast and wicked on the soccer field, but he would never be able to win in a fight against Lynch. That doesn’t stop him from wanting to try. 

“Go home, Skov.” 

“No! Not until you bring him back! I need...I need…” To his horror, his voice cracks. The anger is gone now and all he can feel is the loneliness, the one that’s taken up permanent residence in his heart. K and Proko’s death has killed something in the three of them who remain alive. Something unfixable. 

“I need to say goodbye!” He’s barely able to stutter the words out before he’s sobbing uncontrollably in front of a horrified Lynch. He had never gotten to say goodbye. Never even suspected that the Fourth of July would be the last time he would get to see Proko and K alive. He hadn’t even known that anything was wrong, not really. He had never seen it coming, missed every single sign that Swan and Jiang had noticed, but felt guilty for ignoring. He needed to apologize to K. Tell him that he was sorry he hadn’t been able to help. 

Lynch slowly reaches his hand out and then pulls it back as if he thinks better of it. He’s watching Skov with worried eyes and Skov wants to hit him for it. But instead, all he can do is sob with his arms wrapped around himself, the sound terrible and ugly. 

“Do you want me to call Swan?” Lynch finally asks. 

“No! I don’t want you to call fucking Swan!” 

Yes. Yes, he wants Lynch to call Swan, but he knows he can’t let him. Swan has already dealt with enough. Skov knows he’s having to balance Jiang and Skov’s pain along with his own. Skov knows he can’t keep asking it of him, knows he can’t keep running into Swan’s arms whenever the grief gets to be too much. Still, that doesn’t stop him from wanting to pull out his phone and beg for Swan to come pick him up. The only place he feels even a little bit normal is when he’s in Swan’s arms. 

“I’m sorry,” Lynch repeats. He still doesn’t mean it. 

“I hate you!” He spits out in between sobs because it feels like the only appropriate thing to say. 

“I know.” 

They don’t have anything else to say to each other. Lynch will not bring Kavinsky back and ultimately, yelling at Lynch won’t bring him back either. It hasn’t even really made Skov feel any better. 

He turns on his heel and practically races back to his RX-7. It’s the only car out of any of theirs that still works because Skov had bought it himself after a particularly bad argument with Kavinsky. There had been times when he resented being under Kavinsky’s rule. They had fought the most. 

Kavinsky made Skov feel safe, owned. He always knew he had a place where he belonged at Kavinsky’s side. Most days, he had been fine with it, in fact, he usually enjoyed it. He loved it when K would gift him with gaudy gold chains with a huge K pendant attached or when K would send him to soccer practice with a huge line of bruises along his neck. Hell, he even had a huge K tattooed on his lower back that had resulted from a night where he had gotten too drunk and let Kavinsky try out a new dreamed up tattoo gun on him. Proko had a matching one. Swan had been less than happy the first time he had seen the initial. He thought that Skov let Kavinsky get away with too much. 

There had been times though when being around K had been smothering. K had a way of becoming someone’s entire world and he reveled in the attention. He had a possessive streak too, one born from insecurity and fear, that made him feel like he needed to possess, to own, every aspect of his pack of followers. Unfortunately, most of his attention in this matter had come to focus on Skov. 

Proko was a dream thing. He was connected to K forever and sometimes, in his darker moments, Skov wasn’t sure if Proko would have even been capable of leaving K. Somehow, he doubted it. K loved to show Proko off, but with the air of someone who knew that Proko was never going to go anywhere. There was no real need to worry about Proko running away from him. 

Jiang was a bit more of a complicated matter. He didn’t take well to being possessed by Kavinsky, but he did love him. Loved him deeply and so completely that his love may have equaled Proko’s. Jiang would spend hours walking Kavinsky through calculus he didn’t understand or in the bathroom as K threw up whatever he had ingested the night before. Jiang could do better than Kavinsky, so much better, but he had proved time and time again that he wouldn’t leave. In some way, Jiang had found peace in Kavinsky. The idea of anyone finding peace with Kavinsky seemed comical to him, but he knew it was true. Jiang had told him as much. Jiang had a deep sense of loyalty and while K’s name wasn’t etched onto his skin, it was etched onto his heart. 

And Swan, well Swan had never been owned by Kavinsky at all. Not exactly, anyway. He was the only one out of all of them that hadn’t needed him. He ran around with K because he found it exciting, and ultimately, because Skov needed to be around K. Skov knew K resented Swan’s independence. Not only because it was an affront to his ego, but also because K needed Swan. Swan had always been the only one who could K together when he was falling apart. He had been the only one out of all of them who could take Kavinsky at his nastiest, his most vile. K went to Swan when he needed help the most or when he needed someone else to lead for a while. Skov knew that was why guilt was eating at Swan. He blamed himself for not being there to pull Kavinsky back from the edge in only the way he could because, despite everything, Swan had cared for Kavinsky. He didn’t need him or love him as deeply as Jiang, but he did care for him. Skov had seen it in moments when Swan would carry a passed out Kavinsky to his bed or when he would use his size to intimidate anyone who tried to harass K. He had cared and Skov knew that losing Kavinsky had hurt him, that it might be something that always hurt him. 

Finally, that left him. Blake Skovron. His and Kavinsky's relationship had always been a complicated one. Most of the time, Skov had loved being Kavinsky’s. There had been a lot of nights when he would stand in front of his mirror and gently trace the initial on his skin with his finger, feeling a sense of calm and contentment as he did so. There were other days when he would don some ugly chain with K’s initial on it when he felt in need of extra reassurance. Some days though...some days he and K had explosive fights about the fact that Skov still needed his own independence. Kavinsky liked owning people and for the most part, Skov didn’t really mind being owned. He found it comforting even. It meant that he always had a place where he belonged. The problem was when K had tried to use the power he had over him to manipulate Skov into doing things he wanted. Depending on his mood, Skov was just as likely to give into what Kavinsky wanted as he was to yell at him for it. 

As he raced down the highway in his car, it was easy to get lost in the memories he had of Kavinsky. He had been doing that a lot lately. His mind running over the same scenarios over and over, trying to see the signs he had missed the first time around. 

The one he kept coming back to was about a week before the Fourth of July party. It had been another one of K’s substance parties and it had also been the occasion of their final fight. The last one they had before K died. 

This party had taken place at Kavinsky’s house and was fairly small, or at least small when compared to the size of Kavinsky’s other parties. There was a mix of other Aglionby boys along with a few townies, and even some tourists whose families were just passing through the area. 

Kavinsky had set up court on the couch, passing out drugs to everyone who stopped by to slip him money. Proko was perched on his lap, curled up close to his chest. Lately, he had been clingier than he usually was to Kavinsky. Skov knew he was worried. Kavinsky had been almost hyper focused on Lynch the past two weeks. He knew Proko felt threatened by it. He had confided to him that he wasn’t sure how he, a dream thing, was going to compare to Lynch who was an actual dreamer. He seemed certain that Kavinsky was going to drop him the second Lynch finally gave in. 

The whole situation pissed Skov off. He hated Lynch. He hated all of them really, all of Dick’s crew, but he hated Lynch the most. In another life, he might have been able to accept Lynch as one of them. Now though, he only annoyed him. He acted holier than all of them just because he was on Dick’s leash instead of Kavinsky’s. As if in the end it really made any difference. Fuck Lynch honestly. Frankly, he was hoping Kavinsky just fucked him and got it out of his system. That better be how it went down anyway because there was no way Skov was willing to accept Lynch into their group. No matter what Kavinsky said, Lynch was not one of them. 

Skov was dancing on the dance floor, mostly looking for someone to hook up with. The concept of casual hook ups was...touchy for Kavinsky when it came to him. Sometimes he could barely care less about who Skov fucked and other times he would get into fights with anyone that suggestively put a hand on him. Skov didn’t know what reaction he wanted to get tonight. He felt lonely. Swan was out of town for the weekend and Jiang had already passed out in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Kavinsky wasn’t paying attention to him and Proko was too busy clinging to Kavinsky to be pulled away. Skov was on his own. 

So, he sidled up next to a boy he didn’t recognize. He could have been a townie, maybe a tourist. He had dark blonde hair and light green eyes. His skin was tan as if he spent a lot of time out in the sun and he had a scattering of freckles along his nose and shoulders. He was tall too, though he wasn’t intimidating. He almost seemed sweet, a bit shy. Normally, that wasn’t Skov’s type at all, but he could use a little sweetness at the moment. 

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he said casually, giving the boy a slightly sultry look. 

“I’m just passing through,” the boy replied, flashing a set of perfect teeth at Skov as he smiled. “I’m Joshua.” 

“Skov.” 

“Nice to meet you, Skov.” Joshua said easily. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Skov asked, slightly tensing himself for a negative reaction. He was pretty good at picking out his hook ups, but there had been a few times when he had guessed wrong and gotten a punch in the face for hitting on the wrong guy. 

Thankfully, it seemed like he had chosen right because he got a low chuckle in response. “Sure.” 

Skov took Joshua’s hand and shoved his way through the crowd towards the staircase that led to the second floor. Right as they reached the bottom of it, Kavinsky suddenly appeared in front of them wearing his signature sunglasses. The lights reflected harshly off them, giving K a slightly otherworldly look. 

“What’s going on here?” he asked, flicking his eyes in between Skov and Joshua. 

“Hook up.” Skov replied casually, ignoring K’s acidic tone. 

“No you’re not. Tell him to fuck off.” 

Skov glared at Kavinsky angrily and tightened his hold on Joshua’s hand. “You can fuck off. I’m bored and you don’t get to dictate who I let fuck me.” 

“Don’t I?” K took a step closer to him, expression dark. “I get that you’re a slut, Skov, but don’t forget that you’re mine.” 

Joshua glanced at Skov and then to K, shifting uncomfortably. “I feel like I’m getting in the middle of something here. I can go.” 

“No, don’t.” Skov said quickly. “K’s just being a little bitch.” 

“Oh really? Because as far as I can see you’re my bitch.” 

Kavinsky reached forward and pulled Skov’s shirt up, baring the tattooed K on his back to Joshua and anyone else who bothered to glance over. 

Skov felt his face flush red. He wasn’t really embarrassed. He was more angry than anything else. He hated when Kavinsky got like this, when he tried to use the trust Skov put in him to hurt him. 

He angrily slapped K’s hand away. “Fuck you. You haven’t paid attention to me in weeks. What do you care who I sleep with?” 

“Just because Swan doesn’t care about you being a slut and sleeping around doesn’t mean that I’m okay with it. Besides, you can do a lot better than him. You’re obviously desperate.” K said, tilting his head as he looked Joshua over. 

“You’re one to talk about being desperate!” he shot back. “You’ve been following Lynch around for weeks begging him to fuck you. When are you going to get it through your head that he doesn’t want you?” 

“Jealous, baby?” A slow smirk spread across K’s face. “Are you mad I’m not paying enough attention to you?” 

Yes. A little bit, but that wasn’t exactly it either. He hated the fact that K was obsessing over Lynch because it made him feel insignificant. Proko was at the very least a dream thing; he would always be connected to Kavinsky. He had never dared mention it, not even to Swan, but they all knew that the Proko that K had pulled out of his dreams was different than the Proko that had been alive before. He wasn’t sure if Kavinsky had meant to do it, but this Proko was needier, more affectionate, and totally devoted to K. The changes were subtle and easy to overlook if you weren’t looking, but they were still there. Not to say that Proko had no free will at all because he did, but still. Kavinsky had bothered to bring Proko back from the dead. In his darker moments, he wasn’t sure if K would bother to do the same for him. 

And if he did? What would he change about him? It was something he normally tried not to consider, but all he had to contemplate as Kavinsky chased after Lynch day after day this past summer were these questions. Lynch was another dreamer. Proko was Kavinsky’s dream boy. Jiang gave Kavinsky the unconditional love and care that K craved. Swan was the only one who could hold K together when he needed it. And what did he offer? Sex? K could get that from anywhere, including from all the other pack members. He had nothing to give. Not really. 

“The opposite,” he said, suddenly wanting to lash out. He wanted Kavinsky to hurt just as much as he had been these past few weeks. He wanted to get back at him too for the way he had made all of them feel insecure in their relationships with him. He wanted him to feel that fear, if just even for a second. “I wish Lynch would take you off our fucking hands. We would all be better off without you. I’m sick of tolerating you when you’re an asshole like this.” 

It had been hard to tell in the dark and Kavinsky had been wearing his sunglasses, but the second the words had left his mouth he saw the pain in Kavinsky’s expression. It had only been there for a second, but Skov instantly felt horrible. 

“K…” he said softly. At some point, Joshua had disappeared back into the crowd but Skov didn’t even care about that anymore. He knew he had fucked up.

Kavinsky threw his head back and laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh, the one Skov loved. It was hateful and harsh, filled with absolutely no humor. “Thanks for telling me how you really feel.” 

Skov quickly shook his head. “It’s not how I really feel! I was just pissed because you’ve been ignoring us for months! It’s hurt all of us.” 

“Seems like the only thing I’m good at is hurting the people around me.” 

“That’s not...that’s not true.” 

“You don’t sound very convinced.” 

Skov frustratedly ran his hand through his hair. He had never been good at choosing his words. Swan and Jiang were excellent at it; they always knew what to say. Skov tended to get tripped up and said the wrong thing constantly. He wished Swan were here. 

“I love you.” He finally said. He at least knew that was true. 

Kavinsky reached forward and grabbed his chin, tilting his head up so that he could look into his eyes. Skov was left staring into the dark void of K’s sunglasses, seeing his face reflected in them. He couldn’t tell how K was feeling, not really. 

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You all love me and I still hurt you. What kind of monster hurts the people who love them?” 

“You’re not a monster.” K was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t a demon or a god or anything otherworldly. He was a boy, one who had made horrible choices, one who was currently still making them, but Skov believed in him. Even in moments like this. 

“Oh sweetheart. You don’t know what I am, the things I’m capable of.” K crooned, stepping closer to Skov running his fingers along his cheek. “I could bring monsters to life that would tear all of you apart.” 

“But you won’t.” 

K gently ran his fingers down from his cheek and traced them along the side of his neck and down to the hollow of his throat. “You’re not normally this naive.” 

“I’m not being naive. I’m telling the truth. They’re all scared of you, even Lynch, but we all know the truth.” 

“And tell me, what is the truth?” 

“That you’re scared. You’re scared of everything.” 

Skov would have said more, but K suddenly reached out and pushed him against the wall and aggressively pulled him into a kiss, harshly enough for their teeth to crack together. 

Skov instantly moaned, reaching out to pull K closer. Out of all that K had said, the fact that he was slut was one of the truer things. Especially for K. 

K pulled back from the kiss and curled his fingers in Skov’s hair and slightly pulled on the strands. “Shut the fuck up.” 

As he drives down the road, Skov wonders if he should have paid more attention to that conversation back then. He regrets a lot of what he said. Especially the part where he told K they would be better off without him. 

He had thought everything was okay, maybe even that their argument was some sort of elaborate form of foreplay. He had never told any of the others about the fight.

That’s what haunts him at night. He should have seen that K needed help, that he was spiraling. At the time though, he had thought it was just a normal bout of K’s moodiness. 

Skov pushes the gas pedal harder. A part of him wants to keep driving, to leave Henrietta behind and to never look back. Maybe he could outrun his guilt. He would do it too if it wasn’t for Swan and Jiang. They’re the only thing that matters to him anymore. 

Suddenly, without any thought, he slams his foot on the breaks causing the tires to squeal loudly as he comes to a crashing halt. 

He takes a few shaky breaths as he stares at the dirt road that leads from the highway into the forest beyond it. There’s a tugging in his naval, strange and insistent, in its direction. 

He knows better than to follow it. But he’s only marginally more rational and responsible than Kavinsky on a good day. Today is not a good day. His impulsiveness has gotten him into trouble a lot over the years. 

Besides, he probably won’t get kidnapped. Most likely. He’ll be careful. 

He slowly turns the wheel and urges his car onto the dirt road, doing his best to ignore how his car immediately shudders as he drives over the uneven ground. He has to be careful with his car now. It’s not like he has Kavinsky around anymore to dream him a new car if he ever needs it. Swan would buy him one, but Skov doesn’t really want to ask that of him. He knows he already asks too much of Swan without adding a new car on top of it.

The further he travels down the road, the more claustrophobic he feels. The trees around him get taller and taller, their branches stretching further up into the sky until they’ve created a canopy above him that blocks out all of the stars. The only thing Skov can see is the few feet in front of him that are lit up by his headlights. 

Even if he wanted to turn around, he probably couldn’t. The road is much too small for that. 

He also doesn’t want to turn back. 

The tugging feeling behind his naval has doubled in intensity. He almost feels like there’s something tied around him that’s slowly dragging him forward. He’s not sure what he’s going forward to, but suddenly, he needs to know. 

He feels like he should be scared, but he isn’t. Instead, all he feels is calm. The energy he’s getting from whatever it is isn’t frightening. Ancient, maybe. Definitely powerful, but not malevolent. It reminds him of how it felt to wake up next to K after he’d dreamed up some new impossible object. Maybe that’s what is putting him at ease. 

Skov watches as the lights reveal the end of the dirt road in front of his car and he reluctantly stops. As much as he still feels like he’s being pulled forward, he feels slightly nervous. He doesn’t know anything about hiking or being in the woods. It would be easy to get lost. 

Still, the feeling has moved to his chest now, curling around his heart. 

It’s chanting his name. At least, he thinks so. 

Because what is being chanted in his head is not Blake Skovron. It’s not even Skov, the name he considers to be truly his name. 

It’s something else. Something he’s never actually heard before but that he somehow instinctively knows is his name too. 

Viatorem, Viatorem, Viatorem

He steps out of the car and slams the door behind him. He had thought that the chanting was coming from inside his head, but as he stands in the forest surrounded by trees, he realizes it’s coming from the trees itself. 

He keeps hearing his name being called, Viatorem, but interspersed between it is Latin. At least, he thinks it might be Latin. To be honest, he had cheated off Swan for every Latin test he’d ever taken. He’d copied off either his or Jiang’s homework, sometimes even Kavinsky’s if no one else was available. Latin was the only subject Kavinsky had ever truly applied himself to for reasons that Skov still doesn’t quite understand.

The trees are speaking fucking Latin. 

Skov knew he should be more surprised, but honestly, after seeing someone pull a whole person out of their dreams, it was pretty hard for magic shit to really shake him up at this point. 

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone to turn on the flashlight, taking a second to glance at the screen. Two missed calls from Swan. He should probably call him back, but then he would have to explain what he was doing and he knows that Swan would be pissed. He’ll call him once he gets back to the car. He won’t be gone long.

He lets the feeling draw him deeper and deeper into the woods. The farther he goes in, the louder the whispering gets. He sees a break in the line of trees and steps into a clearing full of white flowers. The flowers brush against his ankles as he walks further up into the clearing. 

He sits down in the field, brushing his fingers over the flowers closest to him. He slowly lays back in the grass and stares up at the stars in the sky, sparkling like pieces of ice that have been suspended there. Skov knows nothing about constellations, but he thinks that these might be a bit different than the ones he’s used to. Maybe he’s just imagining that though. 

In that moment, his chest aches. He misses Kavinsky and Proko. He hasn’t really let himself process either of their deaths. He does his best not to think about it most days. 

Proko was his best friend. Swan and Jiang had always gravitated more towards each other being the more responsible members of the group, though that wasn’t exactly saying much. Still, Skov used to always be able to count on Proko for a late night race or even just for a quick run through the McDonald’s drive through in the middle of the night. Now, all of that is gone. Proko is gone. For good this time. 

Skov has no idea how to handle that he’s lost his best friend. 

And there’s no way to approach the fact that he’s lost Kavinsky too. Kavinsky had been the sun that they had all revolved around. Skov had never once considered what his life would be like without Kavinsky. Maybe it was naive to have thought that Kavinsky would have stuck around forever, but he had never imagined it would end like this. An explosion of fire and flames. No encore, no new dream to fix everything. Just gone. Alive and a god one minute, dead the next. He supposed death came for them all in the end. Dreamer and dream things even. Death was the great equalizer after all. 

Personally, Skov would like to tell death to fuck off. 

Skov would do anything to be able to see them again. He wishes more than anything that he could. He wouldn’t take them for granted this time. He wouldn’t take any of them for granted. He was lucky, so fucking lucky and he hadn’t realized it. 

He loves all of them so much: Kavinsky, Proko, Jiang, and Swan. They’re his everything. He’s no Kavinsky though. There’s absolutely nothing he can do to help. He can’t even go with Jiang to visit Proko. All he can do is feel numb and hope the feeling goes away, that one day everything might get better, that he can learn to care again. 

It’s this wish that lulls him to sleep. The trees are whispering in his ears and the stars are shining above him. Despite the darkness of his thoughts, he sleeps easier than he has in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I was naming these chapters, I would call this one “The Future That Joseph Kavinsky Deserved”

The first that Skov registers is the pounding in his head. The feeling isn’t an unfamiliar one. Besides the pounding in his temple, he feels faintly nauseous and overall generally unwell. In short, he’s hung over. 

He does his best to try and remember what happened the night before, but the vague details he’s able to recall don’t really make any sense. He remembers walking into the woods, but he doesn’t really remember ever leaving. Maybe he had gotten into his car and drove home before getting black out drunk? It sounds like a plausible theory. 

He reluctantly opens his eyes, the pain in his head spiking as he accidentally looks at the fluorescent light that’s lighting the space he’s in. It only takes a quick glance around for him to realize he has no idea where he is. He’s in a small bathroom that slightly resembles the one he used to share with Skov at their dorm in Aglionby, but he doesn’t recognize it at all. He knows he should be more panicked about the fact that he has no idea where he is, but his headache makes it hard to dredge up the energy. 

He reaches out to grab the sink and drags himself to his feet. He slightly freezes when he sees his reflection in the mirror. His hair isn’t blue anymore. Somehow, it’s returned to its natural light, ashy blonde color. He stares at his face a few seconds longer as the fear slowly creeps in. Something is wrong here; something feels off. He can’t really describe what it is, just like how he can’t describe how his hair has suddenly changed colors overnight. It’s not impossible to believe that he might have dyed it impulsively, but there isn’t any hair dye in the bathroom he’s in now. If he did this, he did it somewhere else. 

Skov quickly moves to the door, but before he can open it, someone else does. He almost has a heart attack as he stares at the person on the other side of the door. 

It’s Kavinsky, looking tired and hungover, but very much alive. 

Skov forgets how to breathe as he stares at him, eyes taking in every feature of him. 

He still looks the same as how Skov remembers him. He’s wearing a white wife beater and a pair of black jeans with enough tears in them that it would be plausible to assume a bear had somehow gotten a hold of them. His hair is the same dark brown and his signature pair of white sunglasses are perched on the crown of his head. Beyond the similarities though, this Kavinsky looks...healthier. He looks less like a skeleton and more like a normal boy. The sharp angles of him almost look like they’ve been slightly smoothed out into something softer. There are still dark circles underneath his eyes, but they’re lighter than Skov can remember ever seeing them. The entire image is surreal. He’s staring at Kavinsky, but not any Kavinsky he’s ever met before. 

“I think I died.” He blurts out. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Kavinsky is dead and Skov is staring at Kavinsky. He doesn’t know if this is heaven or hell or something in between, but it only makes sense that Kavinsky would be the one to guide him to whatever afterlife he’s earned. 

Kavinsky looks at him for a few seconds before he bursts into laughter. Skov can only stare. He watches how Kavinsky’s eyelashes brush against his cheeks, the way his nose is slightly crooked from when he broke it in a fight their sophomore year after someone had tried to jump Proko, all things he had never properly appreciated about him before. He listens to K’s laugh, which is far too nasally to be an attractive sound, but it somehow fills something in Skov’s chest. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed what it sounded like when K laughed. 

“You really must not be having any fun without me up here if some cheap college beer is enough to make you feel like you’ve died.” K chuckles. 

He isn’t sure what to do. He can hardly believe what he’s seeing. There’s no way this is actually happening, and yet, Kavinsky is standing right in front of him. 

Before Skov has really thought it through, he’s already running to throw himself in Kavinsky’s arms. K stumbles back a few steps, but slowly reaches out and puts his arms around Skov. He presses his ear against K’s chest and sure enough, he can hear a heartbeat steadily beating in K’s chest. That more than anything convinces him that Kavinsky is really here. He’s not sure how, but he’s not sure if he wants to inspect it too closely. He’s terrified that all of this is going to disappear. 

“I missed you so much,” he breathes out shakily, tightening his grip around K. 

“Oh.” Kavinsky sounds genuinely surprised by his words. “I mean, I guess I missed you too. I don’t like it when we’re not together.” 

Skov curls his fingers in Kavinsky’s tank top, trying to focus on his words. He feels like he’s falling. He’s terrified because he has no idea where he is or how Kavinsky is here, but he’s also so happy he feels like his chest might burst open from the force of it. He’s not really sure how to feel. 

He looks up to meet K’s eyes. Kavinsky’s eyes were gray, nothing that would be considered particularly beautiful or interesting at first glance. Over the years though, Skov had ended up falling in love with K’s eyes. It wasn’t the color that mattered to him. He was in love with how K’s eyes lit up with passion when he dragged them out on another street race. He was in love with how K’s eyes looked during sex, showing the emotions he pretended not to have and speaking the words K would never say himself. It’s staring into those eyes that Skov loves so much that breaks him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says softly. The words are barely audible between them. He means to say more, to apologize for not noticing that Kavinsky needed help, for not getting it to him in time. He means to say all of that, except suddenly he’s crying again and he can’t force the words out. 

“Skov…?” Skov feels like he’s hearing K’s voice through a tunnel. Suddenly, everything seems like it’s too much. He doesn’t know where he is and he’s terrified. 

“I-I don’t think I can breathe,” he stutters out quickly. 

“Fucking hell.” K pulls him out of the bathroom and into what looks like a dorm room. The room was bigger than the one he used to share with Swan at Aglionby. It’s also a room he’s never been in before, except all of his stuff is scattered around on the left side of the room. He can see a soccer ball shoved into the corner and a few of his t-shirts are crumpled on the floor. 

On the other side of the room, he can see Swan’s guitar leaning against his record player. There’s a stack of records sitting on Swan’s desk and a picture of him and Skov from when they celebrated their two year anniversary at the fair. Swan himself is sitting on the bed with a textbook open on his lap. 

The sight of him instantly calms him somewhat. At least wherever he is, Swan is here too. It also helps to convince him that he’s not actually dead. He could maybe believe he might have somehow died wandering out in the woods, but there was no way Swan coincidentally died on the same night. So, he’s alive. He still doesn’t know what’s going on, but at least he knows he isn’t in hell. Probably. 

At the sound of Skov’s shaky sobs, Swan quickly looks up and focuses on him. Skov notices an earring hanging in his right ear, a small gold loop. Skov knows Swan’s ears aren’t pierced, but somehow here they are. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and Skov only pushes his face against Kavinsky’s chest to keep listening to his heartbeat. He has no idea how to explain what’s going on. He doesn’t even know where he would start. 

“What the fuck did you two do last night?” Swan continues, and Skov hears the bed creak slightly as he presumes Swan gets to his feet. 

“Nothing!” 

Skov slightly looks up in time to catch Swan’s disbelieving look. 

“I swear! We went to a shitty college party and we both drank but that’s it. Proko would kill me if I did anything stronger than alcohol and weed.” 

That doesn’t make much sense. The Kavinsky he knows would never settle for only alcohol and weed. Kavinsky was fond of saying that alcohol and weed were just appetizers to be used before getting to the real drugs. If there was nothing good available, K would usually just dream it up himself. He also can’t really comprehend the idea of K listening to Proko. K almost always did whatever he wanted whether Proko and the rest of the pack approved of it or not. 

“Skov, baby, look at me.” Swan says softly and Skov slowly turns his head towards him. Swan’s expression is concerned and Skov instantly feels bad for worrying him. “What do you remember about last night?” 

He considers lying, but this is Swan he’s talking to. Swan would see through any lie he decided to tell in a second. “Nothing. I-I don’t remember any party. I don’t even know where we are right now.” 

Swan levels him with his gaze for a few seconds, his dark brown eyes searching Skov’s blue ones. Whatever he finds must worry him because he steps even closer and holds his arms out and says to Kavinsky, “Give him to me.” 

Skov is reluctant to let go of Kavinsky considering everything, but he needs the comfort that only Swan can provide for him right now. Besides, if Kavinsky hasn’t disappeared yet, he doesn’t think that letting go of him will make much of a difference. 

He quickly steps into Swan’s open arms, taking in the familiar scent of him. That at least is the same and it comforts him. The tears have slowed down some, and he weakly sniffles as he reaches out to wrap his arms around Swan. 

“What do you remember?” Swan asks him and Skov bites his lip as he tries to decide how to answer. 

“I was walking in this forest when the trees started…” He pauses. He knows how ridiculous this will sound. He also knows the chance of Swan believing any of this was slim. Swan was an incredibly logical person. Accepting K’s dream abilities had been hard for him, seeing the impossible suddenly become possible. Still, the only thing Skov knows to tell is the truth. “The trees started talking. I think it was Latin? I don’t really know. I always cheated off you during tests. And then I got tired and I think I fell asleep. I woke up here. Before that…” He glances at Kavinsky. He can’t say it. He can’t bring the idea of K’s death into this place where K is so vibrantly alive. He can’t ruin it. 

Swan curses angrily under his breath and directs his next question towards Kavinsky. “Could someone have slipped him something when you weren’t looking? Acid or some shit?” 

K is staring at him with an unreadable expression, his eyes large almost as if he’s surprised. “No, I was watching him the entire time, but…”

“But?” Swan prompts. 

“I know that place. The one with the talking trees. I’ve been there.” 

He hears Swan’s disbelieving scoff. “You’ve been there. To the place with the magic talking trees?” Swan says sarcastically. Skov almost agrees with him. When he puts it like that, it sounds ridiculous. 

K flips him off. “Yes. I’ve been there. It’s where I go when I dream things up. Lynch had some fucking name for it, but I don’t remember it now.” 

“It’s...It’s a real place?” Skov asks, his voice tinged with a bit of hopefulness. If it’s a real place filled with some sort of magic, maybe they can go there and figure out how to get him home. 

Except...he’s not really sure if he wants that. 

“Not really. It’s magic shit. It’s both real and not real at the same time.” 

“Shrödinger’s cat.” Swan adds helpfully, though Skov can tell from his tone that he doesn’t quite believe what they’re saying. 

“Sure. I’ve only been in my dreams, but Lynch told me he and Dick have gone physically before. I’ve never been interested. If I can get whatever I want from it without leaving my couch, I wasn’t going to go there.” 

Skov tries his best to process what any of this could mean. As far as he can tell, the forest he visited is probably the same one Kavinsky used to dream. He had somehow been drawn there physically and then woken up here. Did that mean he was dreaming? Considering the fact that Kavinsky was alive when he very much should be dead, the answer was probably yes. 

“So what does that mean for Skov if he’s dreaming about this place?” 

K shrugs, reaching up to slightly mess with the sunglasses on his head. “Hell if I know. That place is weird. I couldn’t even begin to describe the weird shit that goes on there. He could be a dreamer, like me.” 

“But...I didn’t bring anything back.” Skov protests. All he had done was somehow travel between universes, but he had no idea how to bring that up.

“It could have been a coincidence. It probably was.” Swan cuts in. “A dream about walking through the forest while you hear weird shit? It’s strange, but not strange enough to not be a coincidence. We’re not even sure if it was Latin.” 

“I don’t really believe in coincidences.” K mutters. 

Skov, internally, sort of agrees, but finds himself saying out loud: “I think Swan is right. It was just a weird dream that freaked me out. I’m better now.” 

Both Swan and Kavinsky give him disbelieving looks. Swan at the idea that he’s suddenly feeling better and K at the idea that the whole dream was a coincidence. 

“Besides,” he continues. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. Not unless I have another weird dream tonight. If I do, then we know it’s probably a coincidence. If not, then it was probably nothing.” 

“I guess that makes sense.” Kavinsky finally says. 

“Where is Jiang?” He hesitantly asks. He’s too scared to hope that maybe somehow Proko is here too. Except, K is here and K’s death was what had “killed” Proko. Logically, that means Proko is still alive too. He can’t make himself directly ask though in case he’s told differently. Any composure he’s won would be instantly lost. 

“Out picking up breakfast with Proko.” Swan answers. “Though considering the fact they should have been back by now, I think they stopped somewhere to make out.” 

Kavinsky rolls his eyes and throws himself onto Skov’s bed. “Typical.” 

Skov surprises himself as he scoffs, “As if you’re much better.” 

Kavinsky only chuckles. “Do you want to come over here and find out?” 

Before he can even finish his sentence, Skov is already throwing himself onto the bed and tackling Kavinsky onto the bed. K makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat and Skov can only push himself closer to him. One of K’s arms wraps itself around his waist and Skov feels his other hand lightly grab the strands of his hair.

He can’t believe that this is happening. He can feel the warmth of K’s mouth, the chappedness of his lips. If he is dreaming, he never wants to wake up. He never wants to live in a world without K and Proko ever again. 

A part of him wants to cry again. He’s drowning in K’s embrace and while there’s nowhere else he wants to be, he still can’t believe that he’s here. He still can’t believe that if he closes his eyes for too long that K isn’t going to disappear. 

He’s distracted from his thoughts when K suddenly tightens his fingers in his hair and pulls his head back, causing Skov to bare his neck to him. K wastes no time in attaching his mouth to Skov’s neck and harshly nipping the skin underneath his mouth, pulling soft whines out of Skov’s mouth. 

Skov reaches out to pull K’s mouth back onto his just as the door opens and Proko and Jiang step into the room holding a box of doughnuts. Skov stares at Proko with wide eyes. He knew that K had said that Proko was here, but he hadn’t really processed the idea until he saw Proko step into the doorway. 

His mind flashes back to the Proko back home, stuck in eternal sleep. He compares him with the Proko who is standing in front of him wearing a red sweater and jeans, light blonde hair slightly ruffled from the wind. His cheeks are pink and he looks so real. So alive. 

A voice finally breaks through his thoughts. “Skov?” 

He quickly turns his head to find Kavinsky staring at him and he gets the distinct impression that Kavinsky might have already said his name a few times before getting his attention. “Yeah?” 

“Are you alright?” K asks and Skov can see just a hint of worry in his eyes. Kavinsky was always more perceptive than anyone ever gave him credit for, especially when it came to anyone in the pack. 

“I’m fine. Just hungry.” He forces himself to smile and K slowly nods. 

It’s probably a testament to how worried Kavinsky actually is when Skov moves off of his lap without any complaint from him. Skov ignores it. 

He watches as Jiang shoots him a smirk as he sets the box of doughnuts on what Skov is pretty sure is supposed to be his desk. Skov is suddenly struck by the fact that it’s been a long time since he’s seen Jiang truly smile. The last time might have been on the 4th before everything happened. 

He turns his attention back to Proko who has already reached over Jiang’s shoulder to open the box and grab a chocolate covered doughnut. 

He wants to say something to him, something about how much he’s missed him, but he knows it would seem out of place here. He’s not exactly sure what the situation is or even where they are, but all he knows is that he wants things to feel normal. 

If he’s dreaming, then this might be his only chance to have another normal day with everyone. He’s not going to ruin it by telling the truth about what he thinks might have happened to him. He’s certainly not going to tell anyone that K and Proko are supposed to be dead. 

“Proko?” he says softly. 

Proko turns his head towards him, already chewing a bite from the doughnut he had grabbed and Skov can’t suppress the smile that overtakes his face. 

“I really love you.” 

Skov wishes he had told Proko that more. Each member of the pack had a complicated relationship with exchanging ‘I love you’s’. Swan and Skov had said it to each other the most. They had never had any problem letting the other one know how much they cared. Jiang had barely said it, and when he did, it was almost exclusively to K. Proko had said it to Kavinsky often. As far as Skov knew, K had never told any one of them the words out loud. 

“Oh,” Proko says, sounding slightly caught off guard. Skov doesn't blame him. He and Proko had never really said I love you either. Not because they didn’t love each other, but because it had seemed redundant to say out loud. Their actions had always more than proved they loved each other; they had never really needed to say it out loud. After everything though, Skov had wished he’d said it to Proko more. Just to remind him that Skov always would love him. “I love you too. Obviously.” 

“What about me?” Jiang says teasingly. “Don’t you love me, Skov?” 

Skov laughs, feeling the panic from earlier dissipate even more. This...this almost feels normal. He feels like he’s come back home. He feels like he’s gone back to the summer before junior year. Not the summer where K died, the one before that, when it had just been all of them together racing, drinking, and shooting off K’s dreamed up fireworks in the empty lot surrounded by rows of white Mitsubishis. Before Lynch and before Proko had died. They had been reckless back then too, but Skov remembers that summer fondly. Back then, it felt like no tragedy could touch them.

He wishes that had been true. 

“Of course I do.” Skov replies, smiling at Jiang.

He hears K scoff and looks over his shoulder and watches as K stretches back on his bed. “This is sickeningly sweet.” 

Swan’s attention has gone back to the textbook in his lap, but he just chuckles at K’s words. “As if you don’t feel the same.” 

There’s a pause for a few seconds before Kavinsky finally says, “I do, I guess. Love all of you.” 

The words are slightly stilted as if K’s either unsure or unused to saying them, but Skov is so shocked at hearing them at all that he couldn’t care less how they were delivered. 

“And if any of you tell my therapist I actually said that, I’ll kill you. I can’t let that bitch know she’s actually getting to me.” K continues. 

Therapist? Skov knows he definitely has to be in another universe now. The K he knew would have never seen a therapist. He’s pretty sure K would have punched anyone who even suggested the idea. 

“Don’t worry. Your secret's safe with us.” Jiang says and as Skov looks around the room to see everyone smiling, he realizes that this isn’t really like the summer before junior year after all. This is something different, something softer, maybe a little kinder. This isn’t a group of boys that feel like they need to lash out at the world to prove that they matter, who cling onto each other as tightly as they can to feel like they have somewhere, anywhere, to belong. 

This is a group of people who have healed together, maybe who are even still healing. They’re not as insecure as they once were, instead they’re more confident in themselves and in their relationships with each other. Skov doubts things are perfect, none of them are ever going to be perfect, but he can see how they’re better. More stable. 

Skov wonders if this is what they could have become if K had never died. 

\---

The rest of the day, nothing strange happens. Skov feels like he’s living in a dream, almost as if he’s watching himself go to college classes that he doesn’t remember ever signing up for, going to soccer practice with teammates he’s never met, and walking back to a dorm that he can never remember living in. 

After going through his phone, he’s been able to learn three important things. The first thing is that he's in the future. It’s currently November and he’s at the college that offered him his college scholarship. The second thing he had learned was that Kavinsky and Proko didn’t go to school here. Only him, Swan, and Jiang did. K and Proko had driven up from Henrietta for the weekend to come visit, something that they seemed to do fairly often. Skov wishes he had been able to figure out why K and Proko didn’t go to school here or at least why they didn’t live closer to the campus, but his text conversations hadn’t been very forthcoming on the details. The last and most surprising thing he had learned was that this K had spent the first semester of senior year in rehab. Again, Skov hadn’t really been able to figure out the details, but it’s something Kavinsky had mentioned a few times in his texts to Skov individually and in the group chat they all had with each other. Mostly all he talked about was how he had hated it there and how boring it was, but he had seemed to have mostly sworn off of doing anything besides weed and alcohol, even dream drugs. 

As Skov walks back to his dorm, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees that he got a text from K that reads: 

Meet me in the back garden

A few seconds later: 

Hurry up bitch

It almost makes him want to laugh because he never thought he would miss K’s impatient nature, but he had. He had missed almost everything about K, even the bad parts. He also wants to cry because seeing K’s name pop up onto his phone almost makes him feel like he’s getting a message from a ghost. Even though he saw K this morning and even at lunch in one of the campus’ dining halls, Skov still can’t truly let himself believe it’s true. 

He quickly tries to pull himself out of his thoughts and tries to decide where K is asking him to go. K wants to meet him in a back garden...somewhere. Skov has no idea where a back garden could even be. He does think it’s a strange meeting place, especially as thunder rumbles overhead. The clouds above are dark and the wind has picked up. Skov has a feeling it’s going to start raining any second and he really doesn’t want to be stuck outside for it. 

But...K had asked to meet him and Skov isn’t going to take that for granted. Not this time when their time together could end at any moment. He had already wasted too much of it by forcing himself to go to class and practice in order to avoid suspicion. 

He texts K back: Where?

In the next second, K’s reply comes.

Behind ur dorm dumbass

He’s happy to know the back garden is nearby and keeps walking to his dorm. The building is nothing impressive. It’s a tall, square building with brown bricks and small windows facing the street. It’s utilitarian and Skov supposes that it serves its purpose, though he wishes just a bit more creativity had gone into the design. 

As he reaches the front door, he notices a black wrought iron gate connected to the side of the building and makes his way to it. He slowly pushes it open, listening to the hinges creak loudly in protest. 

As Skov turns the corner, he realizes that calling it a garden was probably a little bit of a generous term. The ground underneath his feet is paved in stones with small green weeds pushing their way through any available cracks they can find. There are a few plant boxes scattered around the small space, but all the plants inside are brown and obviously long dead. There’s one wooden picnic table for students to sit at, though the only person using it at the moment is Kavinsky who is stretched across the top of it. 

“You could just sit on the seat, you know.” he comments idly, moving over to him. 

K is wearing his sunglasses and doesn’t bother to look away from the sky when he answers. “That’s boring.” 

Skov scoffs and sits down on the bench of the picnic table. “Why did you want to meet?” 

K finally turns his head to look at him and Skov can see his face reflected in K’s sunglasses. He vaguely wonders if this Kavinsky wears them as often as his Kavinsky did. He knew they were something that made him feel safe, something that made K feel stronger. They hid his eyes and his emotions from the world. Even Skov still had a hard time reading Kavinsky’s true emotions when he was wearing his sunglasses. “I got you something.” 

“Oh?” Skov asks. 

“Hold your arm out.” 

Skov complies and watches as K secures a bracelet around his wrist. The band is made of thin strips of brown leather and in the center there’s what appears to be turquoise seaglass. It looks like something Skov could have picked up in any tourist shop near the ocean. The only difference is that inside the piece of seaglass, Skov can faintly see what looks like a blue flame bouncing around inside. 

“What is this for?” 

K shrugs, though a bit of tension has entered his frame. “I just wanted you to have it. I gave all the others one too.” 

“Come on. There has to be more to it than that. It doesn’t even have a K engraved into it. That’s not like you.” 

“I already engraved one into your skin. Another one seemed like a waste.” 

“As if you would pass up any chance to let everyone know who we all belonged to.” 

K chuckles lowly, but doesn’t respond. 

“So what’s it for?” Skov presses. He’s not going to let things go that easily. Not this time. 

“Do you remember the fire dragon? From the 4th of July?” 

How could he forget? Skov can remember watching as the dragon fought in the sky with Lynch’s nightmare creature. He remembers thinking at the time that it was almost darkly beautiful. He hadn’t been scared, not really. He knew that anything K dreamed up wouldn’t be a threat to them. It was only when he had seen K clamber on top of the Mitsubishi that he realized what was about to happen. He’s not even sure how he came to the realization; he hadn’t even realized that something was truly wrong with Kavinsky until that moment. 

He can remember leaping out of his car and running towards K, but he was too late. All he could do was stand in horror as the dragon’s flames engulfed Kavinsky and watch as he slumped to the ground. He was the first to make it to K’s body. His eyes were closed and he wasn’t breathing. He could remember hearing screaming. Swan had later told him that Skov had been the one screaming for K to wake up. He can remember Jiang sobbing on the phone with the police, begging for someone to come. He remembers—

K waves a hand in front of his face, jolting him out of his thoughts. “I remember.” Skov says quickly. He wishes he couldn’t. 

“There’s one of those in there.” K touches the bracelet and at his touch, the bracelet instantly glows and Skov can see the faint outline of a dragon inside. When K pulls his hand away, the bracelet returns to normal and the small flame loses its shape and continues to bounce around inside the glass. 

“Jesus Christ, K.” The last thing he wants is to wear a replica of the thing that killed K on his wrist. “Why would I want one of those?” 

“It’s for protection.”

“Protection from who?” Skov asks, confused. He can’t imagine what could be so dangerous that he would need an entire burning dragon to protect himself from it. 

K sits up and turns so that he’s facing Skov, pushing his sunglasses back up onto his head. Skov’s eyes instantly flit to Kavinsky’s and he can see genuine worry there. 

Silence stretches between them and another crash of thunder rumbles overhead. 

“My father is dead.” K finally says. 

“I thought he was already dead.” It’s only after the words leave his mouth that he realizes they might be slightly insensitive. K had been the one to kill his father after all. It had been in self defense, but Skov knew it was something K hated talking about. He had only told them the story after Proko had died, right before he had brought him back as a way to prove that he had done it before. That he could bring Proko back in one piece. 

“The copy I created is dead now too. Assassinated by some other members of the mob. I just wish that I had been there to see the bastard die a second time.” 

Skov vaguely wonders if K had been able to feel when the dream creature died or if he had gotten the news a more natural way, maybe even from his mother. He wondered how the news was affecting Mrs. Kavinsky, whether it would drive her more into despair or make her feel free. 

It was a bit too much of an intimate question to ask Kavinsky though. He doubted K would really want to discuss his mother’s mental health. 

“Are you...okay?” the only thing that K probably would hate talking about more was his own mental health, but Skov was determined to ask. Avoiding hard conversations with K just because they were uncomfortable for both of them hadn’t led to anything good in the past. 

“Of course I’m okay. He died a long time ago. The only thing that matters about the copy dying is that people might try to come after me.” 

“Why would they want to come after you?” As far as Skov knew, K had very little to do with his father’s business after he moved to Virginia with his mother. 

K shrugs. “Hell if I know. I have no interest in trying to take over any of that, but I’m a loose end. A powerful loose end.”

Skov could agree with that. The only thing stopping Kavinsky from taking over his father’s business was a lack of interest. “Do the others know?” 

“Only Proko.” 

“Why didn’t you tell the others?” 

“Because,” K says, reaching out to grab Skov’s chin in his hand. “I trust you to keep my secret.” 

“The others would keep it too.” 

“They would, but they’re too rational. Swan would want to go into hiding until he knew we were all safe; Jiang would want to come back home with me. I’m not letting either of them ruin their futures because of me. Not anymore.” 

Skov slightly glares, trying not to get too distracted when K drags his thumb over his bottom lip. “I don’t want to keep secrets from them, especially not when they could be in danger.” 

“I’m taking care of it.” K says easily. “The bracelets are just an extra precaution and I need someone up here to watch out for them after Proko and I go home.” 

“What do the bracelets do?” 

“Just throw them onto the ground and break the glass if you’re in danger. The dragon will keep you safe.” 

Skov knew that probably meant the fire dragon would kill anything that tried to hurt him or any of the others, but he supposed that was alright. He knew none of them would use them unless they were truly in danger. “And what did you tell the others?” 

“There’s been a lot of muggings happening around the college campus lately.” 

“And they believed that?” Skov asks. 

“It’s not the first frivolous dream thing I’ve ever made and gifted to all of you.” 

That was certainly true. After K’s death, he had been astonished at the vast amount of things he owned that had come straight from K’s head. None of them worked anymore, but Skov hadn’t been able to part with them. Most of them were packed away in a box in the trunk of his car. 

Skov feels a raindrop fall onto his head, then another. Within seconds, a light drizzle is falling around him and Kavinsky. Skov pulls his chin out of Kavinsky’s hand, fully intending to run inside and shield himself from the rain. 

He stands and takes a step towards the door, looking over his shoulder at Kavinsky. K has his head tipped up towards the sky, letting droplets fall onto his face and roll down his cheeks almost like tears. Skov feels his breath catch in his throat. Kavinsky is beautiful in the way that he always has been. Kavinsky isn’t attractive by conventional standards, but to Skov he has always been beautiful. In this moment, Kavinsky reminds him of a statue of Alexander the Great. He thinks of the loyalty that Alexander the Great inspired, the way that his men were willing to follow him anywhere, of the kingdoms that were crushed under his orders. 

Skov wonders if Alexander the Great was a dreamer too. 

“Are you coming?” he finally manages to say, trying to ignore the way his heart continues to twist in his chest. He never thought he was going to be able to see K like this again. He can hardly believe that any of what he’s seeing is real at all. 

“In a minute.” K mutters and Skov watches as drops of rain get caught in K’s eyelashes sparkling like diamonds. 

The rain picks up and Skov knows he should go inside and drag Kavinsky in with him. His clothes are already soaked and his hair is dripping droplets of water into his eyes, but he can’t move. He feels almost hypnotized, only able to stare at Kavinsky’s face. 

After an indefinite amount of time, K finally turns his gaze back to Skov and drops down off the picnic table onto his feet. “Come here.” 

Skov goes. He's unable to do anything else. 

He’s surprised when Kavinsky wraps his arms around him and drops his head onto his shoulder. K is a few inches taller, which makes the position slightly awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Dance with me.” 

“In the fucking rain?” Skov asks, surprised. He had never really seen K as the dance in the rain type. 

K raises his head from Skov’s shoulder to glare at him, almost as if he’s daring Skov to make fun of him. 

As if Skov would ever make fun of him for something like this. 

“I’ll probably step on your feet. Swan’s the dancer, not me.” 

“I don’t fucking care.” 

Skov slowly nods. “Alright.” 

Then they’re dancing, except it’s really more of a swaying motion because it’s obvious neither of them really knows what they’re doing. Skov has danced with Swan a few times, but he had always let Swan lead while he desperately focused on not stepping on Swan’s feet. This is different though. Skov isn’t really sure what this is. 

He slowly wraps his arms around Kavinsky and holds onto him tightly as they sway back and forth in the middle of the storm, holding onto each other like they’re each the last stable thing the other has in the universe. 

In this moment, Skov finally decides to let himself hope. K is alive; Proko’s alive. They’re all together again and the pain that he’s been holding onto ever since the 4th of July slowly starts to ease somewhat. 

He looks at Kavinsky, who has put his head back onto Skov’s shoulder with his eyes closed. His hair is plastered to his head and he looks so human in this moment, exactly like the boy Skov had fallen in love with when he was fourteen years old. The boy that Skov would follow anywhere, do anything for. 

Skov lets himself love the boy in front of him, the one he had thought he had lost forever. If this truly is the last chance that he gets to be with K, then he wants to remember this until the day he dies. He wants to remember having K in his arms and the way his breath feels against his neck. He wants to remember what it feels like to love and be loved by him. 

He thinks he deserves that much.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want, you can come shout at me about the Dream Pack on Tumblr at vexed-chaos


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